Tell Me About It
by awordycontradiction
Summary: Ever have that feeling, where even though you could probably write a list of all the thing's you've done for somebody, the one time you don't it's the end of the freaking world?


**Clearly I've developed an unhealthy obsession with Stiles Stilinski.. but that boy is so damn relate-able, and cute. **

Ever have that feeling, where even though you could probably write a list of all the thing's you've done for somebody, the one time you don't it's the end of the freaking world?

_Tell me about it.._

I left my phone back at my jeep along with any emotion I possessed. I was here strictly for the luxury of ignoring the obvious. The obvious being how bat shit crazy Beacon Hills has become. I didn't want to deal with it anymore. Scott had some nerve. Maybe it was just the full moon approaching again, but I really didn't care. He was being a piece of crap friend again. Just like when he kissed Lydia. I know I promised myself I wouldn't go there anymore, I was in a better place now, but still, when Scott does shit like this, pretends that nothing's wrong, acts like a total dick because hey, I'm Stiles, and I solve everyone's problems, it really pisses me off. I mean how much can I take?

The sun was rapidly falling behind the trees, I zipped up my hoodie, cold taking over rather quickly. The grass was soft beneath me though, so that was an added plus. I stared at the clouds that tugged along the sky, racing each other in a peaceful way. My whole life seemed like a race lately, but not at all peaceful. I knew it had to be passed six by now, thanks to Mr. Harris my weekday afternoons were spend in detention, and thanks to all the bullshit I put up with for Scott every night was spend with dear old dad, grounded because of something I did or another. But tonight I didn't care. Tonight I just wanted to lay here on the lacross field and pretend that my life didn't royally suck. I wanted to pretend I was a freshman again, a freshman with a dream of being popular, being starting line on the lacross team and being Lydia Martin's boyfriend. Sadly, much hadn't changed, just more stuff was added to my high school wish list. Stuff like, I hope I don't die today, and crap did I check the moons progress? Or hey, I hope the guy at the hardware store doesn't think I'm crazy for buying so many chains. And my favorite, can Derek crack a smile, like ever?

Screw Scott.

Screw the full moon.

Screw not ever being able to be normal again.

Evening fell quickly and I had to get home. I wasn't going to make dad come all over town looking for me. As I made it to my feet, and the glow of the field lights shined like a spot light on me, I felt that uneasy sensation like I did that night of the dance. I blinked away the memory and headed towards the parking lot, but something stopped me. Sitting at the top of the bleachers, bundled in a winter coat was none other than the only girl I have ever thought about. I sighed, the air around clinging to my breath. I debated just walking away, letting it go and getting my ass home. But she looked sad, and broken and pretty much exactly how I felt, just you know, flawless. I marched up the stands, the metal echoing with my heavy steps. She gave a sort of sad smile at my arrival but didn't seem annoyed that I was disturbing her peace. It was refreshing seeing Lydia act human.

"I was wondering if you were dead or not." She laughed, a breeze carrying it away.

"Yeah, I was just thinking of ways not to think." I smiled down at her.

"How's that working out for ya?" She questioned.

I sighed, staring out at the field. "Not so good."

Lydia nodded sympathetically.  
"What are you doing here?"

She shrugged, the thick coat she wore made the simple movement seem rough.

"I'm trying to remember why the hell I came out here in the first place that night."

I sat quietly. This again. I mean, I know that she's not going to just get over it. Lydia is the smartest person I know. But it hurts to not be able to tell her the truth.

"Jackson." I mumbled quietly.

Lydia sighed deeply.

"That can't be good." I teased, looking back at her.

In the minimal light her hair looked red, and wild, and so soft. I ached to touch it.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

She shook her head, her eyes on the trees that seemed to surround us for miles.

"Sure it does." I pressed, nearly wanting to kick myself.

The girl I am practically in love with is saying that her ex boyfriend doesn't matter and I'm acting like her best friend at a sleepover, encouraging her to give it another shot.

Wow, are my priorities screwed up or what?

Lydia shook her head but made no eye contact.

"Stiles." She breathed.

"Okay, I'm going." I stood, stretching my legs. I sensed the nice Lydia act slowly drifting away.

I headed down the cold bleachers and nearly made it up the grass when she yelled._ For me._

"Can you give me a ride home?" Her voice drifted octaves as she ran to me in the most adorable way I could ever dream of. Her legs never separated, her hands never left the warm confines of her pockets.

I smiled half to myself and cocked my head to the side, signaling for her to follow me.

In the morning I'll call Scott back and apologize.

In the morning I'll forget all the pain in the ass thing's he's done.

Because, if Lydia Martin can change her tune, I'm sure Scott McCall could stop being a dumb ass.


End file.
